Short Stories…Emily’s Story

Here is the first story submitted. It is written by Emily who is a 17 year old homeschooler. Beautifully done. I am posting each of the stories. Comments are welcome as long as they be constructive comments. Thank you Emily.

Take Me Home

I quietly shut the door behind me and skipped silently away from the house. The yelling eminating from my house gradually became more and more distant as I made my way to the street. At last, I couldn’t hear it at all. I dusted my hands off and smiled. It did not take me long to reach my destination – Mr. and Mrs. Gallagher lived just a couple of streets away.
Since last year when they had so kindly offered me an open invititation, I had become a frequent visitor. I came as often as I was able – about twice a week. Reaching their door, I knocked.
Mrs. Gallagher let me in. “Hello Abbey,” she said cheerfully. “How nice to see you.” Her youthful energy and never-ending joy smiled out of her. She seemed more like 30 than 50.
“Hello Mrs. Gallagher,” I said, following her to the kitchen. It was bright and matched her I-love-being-alive personality.
“Have a brownie,” she said.
“Thanks,” I said, sitting down at the breakfast nook and helping myself to a piece of chocolate heaven. Mrs. Gallagher made the best brownies.
“Here’s some iced tea,” Mrs. Gallagher said. “I put mint in it too.”
Iced tea with mint was my favorite.
The front door opened and a familiar voice said, “I’m home!” Mr. Gallagher walked in. “Hello Leigh,” he said, coming over to kiss her on the cheek. He saw me out of the corner of his eye. “Hello Abbey!” he smiled, his face crinkling and eyes sparkling.
“Hello Mr. Gallagher,” I said. I loved pretty much everything about him – from his smile, to his dark grey hair, to his unassuming manner, to the obvious affection he still had for his wife after thirty years of marriage.
He came over and took a brownie. “How are you doing?”
“Doin’ fine, thank-you,” I smiled.
“Guess what I got today?” he asked mysteriously.
“What?”
He pulled out a CD from his jacket. “The newest Celtic Thunder album!”
“Sweet!” I said, eyes widening. I hadn’t expected to hear these songs for a while.
“And,” he said, pulling out another CD, “I got one for you too.”
I jumped up and hugged him. “Thanks!”
He laughed. “Here, I’ll put it on.”
While he unwrapped the CD and slid it into the CD player, I helped Mrs. Gallagher make dinner. It was spaghetti night and it was my job to make the french bread. As I buttered it and sprinkled it with my special ingredients, I tried to memorize that moment for forever – the late afternoon sunlight pouring into the kitchen, my favorite music playing, my favorite people around me.
No one really understood why I liked Celtic Thunder, except the Gallaghers. Most everyone thought I was strange for listening to all of their songs, drinking my tea from a Celtic Thunder mug, wearing my  Celtic Thunder t-shirt half the time, and having a Celtic Thunder pin on my jacket. Those things more reminded me of the Gallaghers than of Celtic Thunder, as all had been gifts from them. The reason I first liked Celtic Thunder though, was because their songs meant something. Each one reached deeper into me than anything or anyone else ever had before. Some meant more than others, but each one meant something. Desperado, The Old Man, Caledonia, Take Me Home, Steal Away, Broken Things… each described a part of me.
After dinner, which was quite spectacular as always, I helped Mr. Gallagher organize the choir music. He directed a choir over at Mullaghbouy and they had just had a performance. After every performance, everyone gives in their music so it won’t get lost. With a hundred people in the choir and eight songs for each member, it was quite the mess. I liked being able to help him.
“How have you been Abbey?” Mr. Gallagher asked.
I didn’t answer right away. I was in the middle of finding all of the “Before The Throne of God Above” booklets.
“Did something happen today?” he asked.
I nodded. “Mum and Dad got in another fight,” I said softly.
“Is that why you came over here?” he asked.

Wordless Wednesday….Saying Goodbye

My children made a great friend this summer. His name is Alex. Alex is now a freshman at West Virgina U…Go WV!!!!

He was the lifeguard at the pool we went to. Alex was great with the boys. He felt they all needed an older brother and took it upon himself to be the older brother. Of course he was just as goofy as the rest of the kids. He gave the boys nicknames. Charlie became “Little John” and Robbie became “Traveling Monk.” He helped the boys work on their swimming strokes for competition swimming. He wrestled them in the pool. He tossed them all over the pool. They will never forget Alex. I seriously doubt Alex will ever forget them.

He has a love for history that he shared with the boys. We hope he does well at school. He should pass his PT with flying colors after lugging the boys up and down the length of the pool…. 😀

Ode to Alex…….

These are his shoes…..LOL

Good luck Alex…..Don’t forget us…… 🙂

I Cried……

I cried…..now to some that is not such a big ordeal, for me, it is enough to get marked on the calendar. Why? I trained myself to not cry. I had years of training and discipline. It was simply a matter of not allowing the person beating me to also have the satisfaction of knowing they made me cry. I did an excellent job of it if I might say so……I did such a good job that when I cry….everyone is alarmed.

It was something that was said to me today…..I may have read more into the comment or hesitation then was meant….I started to dwell on the conversation. I tried to remember each nuance, each pause and thought to myself that maybe the other person was just being kind.

I started to cry. It was in those few brief moments that I felt so alone. This is not the type of loneliness one feels just because there is no one present to talk with or in my case in the correct time zone that I felt comfortable calling and bawling on their shoulder through the phone. This was a soul deep aloneness. The type of aloneness that one feels in total abandonment.